


heaven to touch

by leeinthesky



Category: New Amsterdam (TV 2018)
Genre: ?????, Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Dialogue Light, F/M, Fix It Fic, Helen centric, Maybe - Freeform, a little angsty, gratuitous metaphor use, idk how I feel about this one, it only hurts for a little while, kind of introspective, ngl max needs to be better to helen, references to max goodwin/alice healy, take better care of my baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeinthesky/pseuds/leeinthesky
Summary: you're just too good to be true, i can't take my eyes off youyou'd be like heaven to touch, i wanna hold you so muchat long last love has arrived, and i thank god I'm aliveyou're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off youhelen sharpe and max goodwin have always had a tactile relationship, but helen is sure that she might die before he kisses her. it's all she's wanted for a while now, and she's becoming very determined to get there. too bad max might bethemost oblivious person alive.
Relationships: Max Goodwin/Helen Sharpe
Comments: 6
Kudos: 84





	heaven to touch

**Author's Note:**

> hiii how are we doing? are we surviving this quarantine? staying healthy? great! now time for some fan fiction.
> 
> not gonna lie, not entirely sure about this one. i just miss sharpwin and i cried/screamed/died during _that_ scene in 2.16, so here's this <3
> 
> title and song lyrics are from can't keep my eyes off you by frankie valli and the four seasons. don''t own that or any of these characters. please don't get me sniped !!!

she has always been waiting for him to kiss her. 

that is increasingly clear now. an _indisputable fact_ , her brain supplies helpfully. before, helen had been able to chalk their closeness up to the yin and yang way they complement each other. if they got a little passionate and invaded each other’s personal space, well. they’re just worried about their patients. 

she can remember the first time he’d broken that little bubble; took one step just over the line of purely professional. _i want you to be my doctor_ , he said, and helen always told herself that her shocked inhale and the way her eyes had widened had been because he was so _trusting_ of her. and it had been. but it had also been because he was so close that she could smell his aftershave, and because at any point, she could have just reached out and touched him. 

she hadn’t, of course. there was georgia, and helen would never. didn’t mean she hadn’t felt bad for it without really knowing why; she’d known it was the start of their real, close friendship, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint why she felt so guilty about it. 

helen finally realized why the sight of max and georgia made her feel so guilty during that god awful snowstorm. in that psychic’s apartment. they had both agreed that they didn’t believe in all of that stuff- tarot cards and crystal balls. hadn’t stopped max from walking around and touching everything once the patient was stable. 

‘max,’ helen had said with an exasperated sigh. ‘are you five or thirty five?’

and then he’d grinned at her, and her heart went _oh shit!_ , and it only got worse when he goofed off some more. ‘c’mon, sharpe, i’m just looking around.’ 

when helen turned back to the patient, rolling her eyes, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw that the psychic was awake and watching her with a knowing look. 

so she tried to keep it together, tried to be less obvious, but max quite possibly wouldn’t have noticed, she thinks, if she’d written it across her forehead. because max once again steps into her space, eyes earnest and bright, and says five words that will stick with helen sharpe for the rest of her days. 

_because i love my doctor._

and then he walked off, like he’d said something as simple as ‘see you later!’, and helen can hear the psychic sigh at them. 

it’s been months since then, just over a year. a lot has changed. a lot has stayed the same. they’ve survived crashes and deaths and breakups together. they’ve _hated_ each other. 

helen sharpe gives up half of her department for max goodwin.

he’s not dying anymore, she reminds herself every time she seems him. you can stop holding your breath now. it helps ease the ache in her soul when she sees PHYSICIAN, not ADMINISTRATION, on her staff badge. it makes it hurt just a little less every time max passes her in the hallway without saying anything. it ensures she holds her tongue when valentina castro’s sour smile and sharp gaze fall on her. 

when she and max start getting close again, it’s like something clicks into place. now, instead of the previous invade-your-personal-space-but-don’t-touch agreement they’d silently agreed upon, they can’t seem to _stop_ touching each other. on the hand. on the shoulder. at the nape of his neck or the curve of her ankle, or both, her legs strewn haphazardly over his lap at dam fam karaoke night. every time, she has to hold herself back from desperately just shouting _think fast!_ and kissing him soundly.

they’re so close, helen can feel it. they’ve violated every other rule, a kiss is not far over the horizon, and helen hopes for it in her chest like rain in a drought. max’s gaze will drop to her lips when she talks, and she wonders if he knows he’s doing it. sometimes, she’ll catch him watching her interact with luna in a way that makes her shiver and quickly extract herself from the conversation. they’re so _close_.

and then alice arrives, and helen feels her standing start to crumble. she meets max in the hallways, after her kid’s doctor appointments. it is all very open. the way helen had hoped it could be for _her_. 

she can’t be jealous. she doesn’t get to be. it doesn’t matter if _she’s_ the one max comes to with his problems. it doesn’t matter that _she’s_ the one who always has and always will clean up his little messes at work. it definitely doesn’t matter that she’s the one who’s been patient and sat and waited for him. helen is already obvious in a way that makes lauren bloom watch her closely and the nurses giggle. and so she is also the one who pushes max to go out with alice, being supportive even as it’s killing her. 

instead of wallowing, helen throws herself into proving that castro is dirty. she knows she should feel bad but instead she just feels- ruthless. if only she could prove that she altered her trial- if only a lot of things. she finds so much, and does it all without even considering what it could mean for max and his cancer. she holds her breath again until she can sneak into the records room and dig through the files to find goldsmith, goodman, _goodwin,_ reading as quickly as she can. 

valentina castro is a liar. that much is true. but max’s cancer? gone.

helen breathes again.

and, now she has proof that castro is altering her trial. helen debates telling max, straight up, but then wonders what he would do if he were her. would he deliberately ruin someone’s career? if she’s being honest, she thinks he might. she remembers how he’d been with clint hartman. but if she tells him now, max will have to ask her why she didn’t come forward immediately, and why she’d given castro half of her department even when she’d had doubts. that could get real sticky real fast- max is _happy_ she can tell, even if he’s just settling, and she doesn’t want to upend that for him. he finally has stability in his life again. he doesn’t need her messy declarations of- whatever.

so helen decides not to tell max. 

all she does is come into his office with valentina to watch her resign, then inform max that she’ll be taking back her department and her duties. he’s confused, she can tell, and even though he asks her what’s going on more than once, helen just shakes her head and tells him not to worry. she smiles at him as she leaves and he returns it; he still looks at her like she’s hung the stars, even with alice, and that’s how helen knows they’ll be okay. she can live with not being with him as long as he keeps on looking at her like that, her tiny crumb of what could have been.

but max goodwin is relentless, he always has been. when helen finds him in her office later that night, she realizes very quickly that he’s not going to just take her word for it and go on his way. she wonders if she can lie to him again, but max fixes her with those baby blues and her resolve- it just crumbles.

‘why did you bring her back?’ max asks her. he sounds almost desperate. ‘why did you give her half of your department?’

he draws her in like he’s tied a rope around her waist. max has always been extraordinarily expressive, and his eyes are begging, pleading with her to tell him what’s going on. helen hardly even realizes she’s staring at him. her hands still against her purse and her heart stops inside her chest. _this is your chance to tell him_ , it whispers while her head screams at her to stop. too bad she’s never been very good at following her heart.

‘have a good night, max,’ is all helen can say as she tries to breeze past him. 

but of course he has to fight her on this, like he fights her on most everything, and will go down swinging if he has to. ‘i want to know.’

‘i think you already do.’

she sounds mad. she hadn’t mean to, but it’s how she feels. mad, annoyed, irritated; all directed at max, all because he is going to make her admit her deepest secret and then continue on with his life. because that’s what he does. upend helen’s life, and then go on with his. _alice is probably waiting up for him_ , her brain whispers venomously. _she’s gonna be the one who gets to lie next to him tonight._

max blinks at her. he looks- hurt isn’t the right word. he doesn’t look hurt. he looks like he’s at war with himself and he doesn’t know what to do.

‘then just tell me,’ he pleads, voice nothing more than a whisper. 

helen is on the verge of sobbing. it wants to rip out of her chest and shake her shoulders until it hurts. she’s not ready for this.

‘for god’s sake, max. i did it for you.’ she wishes she could sound proud of herself for it. happy to have helped. instead, she just sounds defeated. ‘everything that i’ve done, i’ve done for you.’

helen expects him to turn away from her, to push her away again or tell her that she can’t say things like that. but max doesn’t do that. he does the _opposite_. max lets out some astonished sound and steps into her space. they’ve done this a million times. it feels a million times different. 

he’s so close that she has to look up at him. helen could rise up on her toes and fit her lips to his, could snake her arms over his shoulders and hold on so tightly that she can’t breathe. max is looking at her lips again, except now something just a little broken joins the hungry look in his eyes. 

this could be the moment that helen sharpe and max goodwin finally give in to each other, but max has to decide that he wants it. wants _her_. 

max stares down at her. helen thinks he might say something; his mouth is moving silently, unable to find the words. he’s so close, why won’t he just kiss her, can’t he see that she wants him to? can’t he see that this is all she’s wanted for a year now? 

and then helen clocks the way he fiddles with the ring on his finger. and how he’s stopped trying to say anything to her. and she feels so, _so_ stupid. 

‘okay,’ she whispers, nodding slightly. ‘okay.’

it takes all she has not to run out of her own office. she doesn’t turn around to look at max’s reaction. someone calls her name in the hallway, but she keeps walking. somehow, by some feat of strength, helen manages not to cry until she’s securely in the car and on her way home. 

she’s so _tired_ of always being max goodwin’s second choice.

helen tries not to sound eager the next time they talk. she’s decided that the only way she’ll get over max is to be completely closed off to him. it’s really fucking hard and she hates it, and it’s made worse by the fact that max seems not to notice at all. he tries to corner her in a hallway, but it’s donor gala night and she has so much to do before the party kicks off. helen just kind of waves him off and tries not to think about it for the rest of the evening.

(‘helen!’ he’d called after her, skidding to a stop when he saw her. ‘wow- you look- i mean… that’s a _dress_ ’

his eyes had roamed, just like she’d hoped they would when she picked the dress out weeks before, but it doesn’t bring her the satisfaction she’d thought it would.

‘and those are scrubs,’ she’d answered noncommittally.

she knew what he meant, but if he wanted to compliment her, he’d have to _do it_.

helen thinks about it for hours.)

the next time helen sees max, the gala is in full swing. it’s going wonderfully, and the kids’ speeches had been great. she feels really proud of herself, despite having done… not much of the work. but it’s her department, so she can take more of the credit than maybe she deserves. 

it’s worth noting that at this point, helen has also had three glasses of very expensive champagne. she feels _great_.

she’s chatting up some donor. honestly, helen can’t even remember his name; brantley had pushed her towards him with some comment about the size of his coin purse, or whatever. they’re talking about the benefits of traditional chemotherapy and helen feels very in her element. until-

‘excuse me sir,’ comes a voice from behind her. she’d know it anywhere. ‘could i possibly steal doctor sharpe away from you for a dance?’

‘maybe you should ask _doctor sharpe_ if she wants to dance,’ helen counters, finally turning to face max. then she falters, and it’s not because of the campagne.

helen sharpe has seen max in a suit on two previous occasions. the first was at the previous year’s gala. for obvious reasons (starts with a g, ends with an a, and in the middle? a great big baby bump), she had tried her best not to ogle then. the second was at his wife’s funeral, so. wrong place, wrong time. but _now?_ now, helen is half a bottle deep and doesn’t really give a shit.

max looks _good_. his suit fits him perfectly, and the bowtie he wears is real, not a clip on. of course he knows how to tie a fucking bowtie, he would. he’s combed his hair and out some gel in it and his cufflinks are fucking _gold_. 

helen wants to hate him. that’s her plan. she promised herself that she would no longer be affected by max goodwin and his charming ways. instead, she slowly looks him up and down, long enough to make him blush, and wordlessly puts her hand into his outstretched one. 

max leads her out onto the dance floor area as the dj changes the song and frankie valli starts singing.

_you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you._

‘hey,’ max says, voice soft and quiet.

‘hi,’ helen answers. she doesn’t meet his eyes.

_you’d be like heaven to touch, i want to hold you so much._

he tentatively puts one of his hands on the side of her ribcage. helen places one of hers on his shoulder. she tries not to think about it when his hand slides lower to rest just above her hip.

_at long last love has arrived, and i thank god i’m alive._

‘how long are we going to keep doing this?’ max asks her. ‘helen-’

‘doing what?’ after everything, helen can and will make this hard for him. plus, she’s tipsy and therefore extra petty. ‘what are we doing max? we’re just being colleagues. professional. that’s what we are, right?’

that makes max reel a little bit, moving back from her like he’s been slapped. it makes helen feel a bit better, then a lot worse.

‘come on,’ max says to her, and his voice sounds exactly like hers had just a few nights previously. ‘you know that you’ve never just been a colleague to me. you’ve gotta know that.’

_what?_

_pardon the way that i stare, there’s nothing else to compare._

‘max.’ his name is like a lifeline. ‘max, you can’t say things you don’t mean. that’s just cruel, okay, especially after what i told you.’

‘i mean it.’ they’ve stopped their little slow dance sway. they’re obstructing the flow of other couples dancing. max is staring at her again, but this time he knows what he wants to say. ‘i mean it.’

helen shakes her head. ‘i’m tired of being your second choice. i’m always your second choice. i won’t wait around for you anymore, max.’

_the sight of you leaves me so weak, there are no words left to speak._

‘i broke up with alice,’ he gasps out. helen wonders if it’s the first time he’s said that aloud, and if she’s the first person he’s told. 

_but if you feel how i feel, please let me know that it’s real._

‘what? why?’

‘two grieving people don’t make one functioning person.’ max tries to laugh at his own horrible joke but it falls flat. ‘and you know why else.’

_you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you._

helen steps back into his space. ‘say it anyways.’

‘because i’m in love with you.’ max says it so easily, like it’s second nature to love her. she has to gasp. ‘i love you. i do.’

‘you had better mean that, max,’ she insists. there are tears forming in her eyes and her whole body feels tight, but she doesn’t know why. she should be happy, and she is. _really_ happy. ‘i meant it when i said i won’t be your second choice anymore. you’d better mean it.’

_i love you baby-_

and then he kisses her. right in the middle of everyone.

max’s hands are warm on the side of her face and her whole body is hot and her brain short circuits. it’s just how she imagined it. it’s perfect. he’s perfect.

someone who sounds suspiciously like lauren bloom whistles at them from the other side of the room. they break apart smiling and laughing and the look on max’s face just makes helen kiss him again. she buries her face into the shoulder of his suit jacket to hug him and it just feels so right to be in his space, to be enveloped by him. 

‘i’m sorry that i ever made you feel like my second choice,’ max says just loud enough for her to hear. ‘you were never my second choice, and i’ll prove it to you every day if i have to.’

‘you don’t have to,’ helen murmurs back. ‘but keep doing it anyways.’

when he laughs, helen can feel it rumble through his chest and down into her toes. ‘always.’

they stay like that, holding tightly onto each other and unmoving. helen can feel max smiling widely into her hair and thinks about how lucky she is. when the song is almost over, she pulls back a little to look at him. 

‘hey.’ she can hardly keep back her giddy laughter. ‘think fast!’

and then she kisses him again, and then again and again just to revel in the way he melts against her lips. 

_oh pretty baby,_ frankie valli sings, _now that i’ve found you, stay!_

**Author's Note:**

> sooo what do you think? like it love it hate it? tell me in the comments below, and don't forget to drop a kudos :) now, stay safe and be smart, FOLLOW THE LOCKDOWNS, and wash your hands! like ya love ya <3
> 
> come yell at me on twitter, where im @heiensharpe, or on tumblr where im doctor-sharpe!


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